


Let Me See The Teeth You've Been Lying Through

by revenblue



Series: [collection] but you keep spinning 'round me just the same (Perryshmirtz) [130]
Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Aftercare, Breathplay, Heinz is deliberately OOC, M/M, POV Second Person, Under-negotiated Kink, it all works out at the end don't worry, villain monologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26822938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revenblue/pseuds/revenblue
Summary: Your nemesis is, quite literally, holding your life in his hands. So why aren't you fighting back?
Relationships: Heinz Doofenshmirtz/Perry the Platypus
Series: [collection] but you keep spinning 'round me just the same (Perryshmirtz) [130]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/746841
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	Let Me See The Teeth You've Been Lying Through

**Author's Note:**

> ~~Written~~ Finished for Kinktober 2020, day 4.
> 
> Warnings in endnotes.

Dying on the job has always been a possibility. One wrong move, one second too slow, one _mistake_ , and you'd be gone. You've made your peace with that a long time ago.

Your nemesis was supposed to be different.

Surely someone like _him_ couldn't harm you, not _really_. Not when he's so prone to thwarting _himself_ without any effort from you. That was all before he'd gotten his hand around your neck that first time, by accident.

Now, he knows. Now, you're _fighting_ him, waiting for him to take advantage of _what_ he knows. Now, he throws you across the room.

Slam into the wall hard enough to lose all the air from your lungs, and he's there a moment later to pin you to it, face close to yours, his long fingers digging into your throat. He is, quite literally, holding your life in his hands. All he has to do is squeeze just a little bit tighter, use a little more force, and you're gone. Dead, by his hand. Your heart races at the thought.

And yet, you're not _fighting_ it.

The grip around your neck flexes, giving you a slight reprieve to suck in a breath before it returns. He licks his lip, a wet sound can barely hear past the heartbeat thundering in your ears, and when he next speaks there's a new undertone to his words. "You know I could do _anything_ to you, right?" he purrs. "I'm your _nemesis_. I could _choke_ you-" His hand _squeezes_ , painfully, around your throat. "-break you-" Dig his fingernails into your chest. "- _destroy_ you, once and for all." Then he's dragging his fingers over your soft belly, past your cloaca, down to the tip of your tail. "Can you imagine that sort of _power_ , Perry the Platypus?"

Not from him. You claw at his hand as your lungs burn, desperate for air that's not coming, the air he's not giving you, unable to reconcile this man with the nemesis you're used to fighting. The edges of your vision blur, until you're certain you'll pass out at any moment-

He lets go.

The sudden rush of oxygen leaves you dizzy and you slump forward, into his chest, gasping. He _could_ do anything to you, so why is he choosing to do _this_? What does _he_ get out of it? He's already destroyed you, with his words and his hands, so why are you still alive?

To your shock, he brushes his thumb along the edges of your bill, more a caress than anything, the brief contact lighting up your every nerve until you're burning with it. What else can you do but whimper?

"You _want_ this, don't you?" he murmurs in your ear, and you can't help your shudder, instinct lifting your fur where it's not pressed flat against the wall. _Do_ you want this? You _shouldn't_ , he's _Evil_ , you're not supposed to give him this much power over you... So why can't you stop him? Why can't you stop _yourself_? "Look at me, Perry the Platypus." An order.

So you do, you stare up at him, at his dark blue eyes that pierce you right to your core. Part of you wonders how he can be so calm and collected when you're _not_ , when you're broken and sobbing and too weak to push him away like you should.

It wouldn't take much. A punch, a kick... your tail's free too, dangling below you. You could slap him with it. Even an _attempt_ , anything to say you don't want this.

Anything to refute that knowing _smirk_ on his face.

He brushes a thumb over your cheek and the tears spilling out over them, and your traitorous body leans into him. "You know the thing that really gets me about this?" he says, cruelly soft. "No one else would ever know you _wanted this_. Because you do, don't you?" His fingers press into your throat again until you squirm, your feet jerking under you in a futile struggle for air, and he lets out a quiet chuckle. "Just imagine it. 'Perry the Platypus, lost in the line of duty'. I'll _lie_ , of course. I'll tell them you wanted to _thwart_ me, so dedicated to the pursuit of _justice_ you had to come _here_ in your _free time_ for it. I'll tell them it was an _accident_ , a stray wire in the wrong place, you tripped, how sad. But it _won't_ be an accident, will it."

Not a question. That's all you register, that it's not a question. The pressure leaves your throat, enough for one breath, two-

Only to return, cutting off your air for a third time. His fingers dig into your side and you want to _scream_ but he's _choking you_ , he has you completely at his mercy. Utterly defenceless.

"Orrrrrrrrrr..." He draws out the word, voice taking on its usual strangely melodic quality. "I could tell them the _truth_. Ruin your precious _reputation_. 'Perry the Platypus trusted his nemesis and look where _that_ got him'. I'll tell them you _asked_ for this, that you _let_ me do it. How does that sound, huh?"

It sounds _evil_. The sort of evil you hadn't realised he was capable of, had forgotten _anyone_ was capable of after thwarting him for so long, but when he looks at you like this you're convinced he could do _anything_. Not only that, he could make you _want_ it, too.

One corner of his mouth turns up in a strikingly malevolent grin. Somehow, it suits him, in a way. "You _like_ that, don't you."

You _shouldn't_. It goes against everything you should stand for, everything Good and Right in the world. Everything you pride yourself on as an agent of the O.W.C.A. And yet, you've never been able to deny his charms, have you.

Something twists in your gut as he leans closer, a tightness that can only mean you're losing the fight against your own instinctive response, as misguided as it is. Instincts you've done your best to suppress. The last remnants of your control slip, your hips bucking as you claw at his hand.

He notices. Of course he _notices_ , he knows you too well, you shouldn't be surprised that he's so effortlessly made even this struggle pointless. Not after everything else he's done to you, the shapes he's bent and twisted you into for his own amusement. "Is this a sex thing?" he says, breath wet against your ear, and loosens his grip once again. "It _is_ , isn't it? You're _getting off_ on this."

The words hit you like a blow to the ribs (you would know) and you shudder, tail curling up to hide the erection you've been trying so hard to ignore.

"You _are_ ," he gloats. Flattening your tail back against the wall, he stares down, and you squirm. On display for him. "Did you think I wouldn't _notice_ , after all the times you've gotten _worked up_ from our little _fights_?"

The worst part is that he's _right_. He can see through all the lies you tell yourself, everything you wish you could believe.

_You don't want this._ That's one of them, already stripped away.

He tugs at the fur of your tail, nails digging into the sensitive underside, slowly working his way back up. "How many times have you thought about it, huh?" His hand tightens around your throat.

_Never._ Another lie, tears in your eyes at the loss of it.

"Holding me down and _taking_ what you want," he murmurs, deft fingers sliding up to the tips of your dick. "That's what you thought would happen, isn't it? After all..." Dark spots dance across your vision as he chokes you, your heartbeat stuttering in a desperate bid to keep you alive. "How could _I_ overpower _you_?"

_You don't want to die like this._

The lie that keeps you going, fight after fight, knowing any of them could take your life from you. The lie that leaves you disgusted with yourself.

Still, it's a relief when he lets you breathe again. Mostly a relief. You close your eyes and push down the quiet disappointment, telling yourself it's better this way, that this is enough. There's enough truth there that you almost make yourself believe it. Almost.

The ghost of an exhale dances across your bill as he leans in, just close enough to set your nerves alight as he whispers, in a quiet voice, "Maybe next time."

_Next time._ Fuck, you're already eager for it. Eager enough that you barely notice the pressure of his _lips_ until he's already pulling away. A kiss? You strain after him, suddenly aching for it. The kiss you'd always believed you could never have from your nemesis. And yet, some deep part of you has always craved it, some small bit of tenderness amidst the violence.

A whimper escapes your abused windpipe, as broken as you feel. How can you hide, in front of this new version of your nemesis, who strips you of the lies you tell yourself until you're forced to confront the truth? You're exposed. At his mercy, in more ways than one.

"How does _this_ feel, huh?" he says, with a firm squeeze around your dick for emphasis. " _Good_ , isn't it? Or, uh, Evil, since I'm- You get the idea, right? You can be _honest_ with _me_ , I won't _judge_."

You want to refuse him, prove you're not who he says you are, but what else is left? Who are you without your lies?

Two fingers brush along the edge of your bill, light and gentle, the way the hand around your neck _isn't_. "Open wide, Perry the Platypus," he murmurs, and how could you say no?

Barely a moment later, all you can taste is skin and metal and your own precum as his fingers slide into your mouth. His arms are artificial, he's told you as much. Titanium. Only now, with him pressing down on your tongue, is that truth sinking in. You never doubted him, but _believing_ is different from _feeling_. If you concentrate, you can map out the hidden circuits under the synthetic skin, proof of the painstaking effort he took in crafting them.

Mechanical or not, they still _taste_ like him (and you shouldn't know what he tastes like but there was that scheme with the desserts-) and you want more. Suck on them until you come from it. If his fingers weren't still wrapped around your throat, you _would_.

He'd enjoy that, you're sure. Too much. He'd take it as a victory, hold it over you, never let you forget this moment of weakness. Part of you, damningly, wants that.

"Look at you, huh?" Another squeeze of his hand and he tugs his fingers back, coated in your saliva. "So _desperate_." Trailing a finger down your chest, he circles around your straining erection, giving you a wicked grin when you can't help but arch into it. "How far will you go?"

As far as he'll let you.

Despite every reason not to, you trust him. After all, if he wanted you dead, you _would_ be, you have no doubt about that. But he doesn't. Even now, with this new malevolence, he's still the same man you trust. If he sat back and watched while you tore yourself apart...

That would break the promise he made, to hurt you in the _right_ way. The promise he's kept so far. Cartoonish physical violence, the standard bruises and breaks in the course of duty, enough to make you _feel_ it yet still show up the next day for more. He's a man of his word, he'd never do anything to compromise your nemesisship, he enjoys your fights as much as you do.

He's enjoying _this_ , too, stroking your cock with his spit-slicked fingers, making you _writhe_ with the maddeningly light touches at your cloaca. "You _like_ this, don't you," he says, and you wrap your tail around his wrist in answer.

Why bother denying it? He's got you exactly where he wants you: trapped, helpless, aching for his touch. Willing to give him anything (everything) he wants, without hesitation.

Your eyes fall shut as he continues, dragging his palm up to collect your precum, then sliding back down to rub it into your cloaca. The pressure of his fingers is oddly soothing, and you almost forget his other hand's still holding you up by the neck.

"What would your little _Agency_ say if they could see you now?" he says lightly, working a finger into you, slow and agonisingly gentle. "Suave _Agent P_ , the best they has to offer, getting off on being _choked_ by his _nemesis_. And it was all _his_ idea. How do you think they'd react to _that_ , huh? Or would you want me to _lie_? I'm Evil, they'd _believe_ me, they're always looking for a reason to blame _me_ for this. We'd be the only ones who'd know the _truth_. If _you're_ still alive, that is."

A strangled growl escapes your throat, until he presses down on your neck to take even _that_ from you, the way he has everything else.

Leaning in close, he puts his lips to your ear. "You could have _stopped_ me," he murmurs, voice low. "You _should_ have stopped me, but you _didn't_. Why _is_ that? Do you actually _want_ this, Perry the Platypus?"

You don't, you _can't_ -

"Look at you, anyone would think you _do_." His voice is hushed, almost _reverent_ , as he slides a second finger into you, fitting snugly beside the first. "They'd never look at you the same way again." The pressure on your throat lets up just enough for you to whimper, closing your eyes so you don't have to see his grin. "You like _that_ , too." Another statement, _gloating_ , and you can't deny it (because it's true, isn't it). "I didn't know you had it in you. Does anyone _else_ know you're this _depraved_ , or am I the only one?"

Just him. No one else, you don't _trust_ anyone else, not the way you trust _him_. You tap his hand twice in answer, certain he'll understand.

He chuckles darkly, sending a shiver down your spine. "Just _me_ , huh? Is _that_ why you don't tell anyone? Except _me_ , but, well..." Clamping down on your neck again, he twists his fingers inside you, just on the edge of pain. "Are you _ashamed_ of it?" he hisses in your ear. "I mean, I'm not exactly what you'd call _polite company_."

Of course he's not, he's an _evil scientist_. It's part of the job description. Your nemesis, and you fight him, _defeat_ him... don't you?

Squeezing tighter, he smiles into your fur. "That's why you're _here_ , isn't it? You have all these _urges_ , and no one _else_ to take them out on. No one who wouldn't _judge_ you for them. What kind of _Good Guy_ likes to _hurt_ people? Don't think I haven't noticed _that_ , Perry the Platypus."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Are you that obvious? You'd thought you'd suppressed that side of you, that you'd-

"But hey, what's a little extra _bruising_ between nemeses, huh? I know how much you like that. Hurting me. _Bruising_ me. Making sure the _whole world_ knows Doctor Heinz Doofenshmirtz is _your_ nemesis. Is that a _sex_ thing too? Do you think about _me_ , late at night, covered in bruises from your fuzzy platypus hands? Of course you do. Don't deny it, we _both_ know it's the only way you can get off."

You can't pretend you've never considered it, let your mind wander while filling out your paperwork, but it's never gone any further than idle thoughts, locked away in the privacy of your own mind.

Nudging your chin up to meet his eyes, he lets you suck in a breath, one you only have because of him. "But that's not all, is it? You like it when _I_ hurt _you_. That's what _this_ is, you're a cute little _masochist_ , so desperate to belong to _someone_ you'll even take your _nemesis_." His grip on your neck tightens once more, taking your breath away. "Did you ever stop to think that, maybe, you weren't the only one?"

What is he saying? Does _he_ -

"We're _nemeses_ ," he says, like that explains everything. In a way, it does. "You hit me, I hit you back. I've seen you _limping_ , Perry the Platypus, because of _me_. Do you know _good_ that feels? To know I can _keep up_ with _you_ , the O.W.C.A.'s best agent. If _that's_ not something to be proud of, I don't know what _is_. And this time, I'm not just _fighting_ you..."

He shoves his fingers deeper into you, rough and vicious the way you wish you could say you _wouldn't_ be, and it's too much, it's _too much_ -

"I've _won_."

One last squeeze of your neck and he loosens his hold, letting you breathe again, and the deep _ache_ in your lungs as you gasp for air is all it takes. You cry out, lost in sensation.

The burning warmth of his hands on you ( _in_ you), the frantic beating of your heart against your ribs, the way your dick twitches as you empty yourself against him, the roughness of your throat as you relearn how to _breathe_. Nothing else matters, until it does and you find yourself trembling, agonisingly weak, still pressed against the wall.

His hand leaves your neck to settle around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest, like it's the millionth time he's done this instead of the _first_ , and you choke up. Why can't you _breathe_? It's nothing like before. There, at least, it wasn't your own body betraying you.

Putting his palm to your throat once more, he squeezes softly, just enough for you to _feel_ it. The only familiar thing in this moment. He rests his forehead against yours, panting, close enough that you can feel the air against your bill on every exhale, your life in his hand. " _Breathe_ for me, Perry the Platypus," he murmurs, voice low enough that you can't help but tremble, and you finally take in a shuddery breath.

How does he always know what you _need_? It's not just a _nemesis_ thing, not after everything he's done. This isn't nemesisship any more.

"Perry the Platypus?"

At the edge of your awareness, you feel his arm tighten around you as he turns, slumping against the wall, sliding down. Keeping you safe while you can't defend yourself.

When the world makes sense again, his deep blue eyes are the first thing you see, full of concern. "Was that what you wanted?" he mumbles, already back to the reassuring familiarity of his awkward and endearing self. A far cry from the malevolent figure he'd been only minutes ago.

It's an effort to move your paw but you do, curling it into an approximation of a fist, thumb pointing up. Agreement. You're sore and aching all over but it's the good kind, the kind where you've pushed yourself further than you thought you could bear, coming out the other side stronger for it. The kind you only get after the _best_ fights. Thwartings you have to work for, and what else could this have been but another thwarting?

"I'm glad I could give you that," he says, pulling his fingers from your oversensitive cloaca, wiping them off on his lab coat. "I mean, I'm not the best nemesis, I make things too _easy_ sometimes, and that's not fair to _you_ -"

Laying a paw over his mouth before he can go on, you shake your head. He's enough. Why would you need a _better_ nemesis when you could have a nemesis who understands you, and who better than _him_? The nemesis you already have, who you want to keep fighting him for the rest of your life. For better or worse, as your stories always say, right before a-

A kiss.

You press your bill to his lips, to make your point as clear as possible, that you want to be close to him in whatever way you can. What else is a nemesis for?

The sound he makes is strangely adorable (except it's not strange at all, he's always been this easy to adore), and then he's pressing kisses all over your face, paying special attention to the wet tracks from your tears, and it doesn't _matter_ that you're a wreck in his arms when he loves you this much. Because he does, you _know_ he does, even if he's never said it out loud. He's never needed to.

And you don't need to say it in words to make it clear how much you love him too. You love his passion, the way he puts so much effort into everything he does, the way he effortlessly understands what you mean and what you _want_ even when you have no idea yourself, the way he says your _name_ -

"Perry the Platypus," he whispers, between kisses, and it rolls off his tongue so _easily_. "You're so _handsome_ , you know that? I don't know how you do it..."

Hauling yourself closer with shaking arms, you rest your head on his narrow chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat, learning its rhythms. If you could, you'd be content to stay here all day, tucked against him just like this, in a space made just for you, but you can't, you shouldn't-

He takes your chin in his fingers and guides you into another kiss, tongue tracing at the edge of your bill, and you lose yourself in it. No point hiding, not any more. He knows you too well.

When he pulls back, there's tears shining in his eyes, and yet he can still _smile_. "You know," he says, idly thumbing at the fur on your neck, "when you _asked_ , I wasn't expecting it to be a whole _thing_. But you were really into it! And that's, you know, _attractive_. Like when you _thwart_ me. Have I ever told you- No, you're right, I'm rambling. Anyway, the _point_ is, since you were so _attractive_ before, and I really do _mean_ that, have you seen yourself? Not that I'm saying you're not attractive _now_ , because you _are_. So, is it alright if I- I mean, I didn't get to _finish_..."

Who are you to deny him? Whatever his plan is (you're not totally sure), he's not going to hurt you the wrong way, that much is clear. So you nod, immediately, without question. Trusting him.

The hand on your back moves, stroking down your spine before disappearing completely, and you hear a zip. _Oh_. That's what he meant?

"I wouldn't normally do this," he mumbles, shifting you against him, "you know, the whole _impatience_ thing, but you look so _comfortable_ there and it's not like you haven't already made a mess of my _clothes_..."

He doesn't mean it. If there's one thing you've learned about your nemesis, over the months you've fought him, the many _many_ backstories he's shared, it's how to tell when he's bothered by something. And when he's _not_ , just complaining for the sake of it. This is the latter.

Leaning into him, you wrap your tail around his wrist, listening to the way his breath hitches. Is this all it takes to leave him speechless?

As if he could hear your thoughts, he groans softly, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. "You have a nice voice, you know that? I want... I want to _hear_ you, that little _platypus_ noise you make, can you do that for me?"

For him, anything.

"That's good," he mumbles, hoarsely, when you chirr for him, "you sound _so good_..."

So does _he_ , moaning softly into your neck, shivering whenever you growl softly. His arm flexes in your tail's grip with every motion. You're not sure what human dicks look like, or if they even _have_ dicks, but whatever he's doing to his seems to be working. Maybe you'll find out next time.

It doesn't take long for him to shudder under you, gasping out your name, digging his fingers into your back like he's afraid you'll leave (you _won't_ ). _Your_ nemesis.

Shivering under you, he swallows audibly, curling a hand around the back of your head. "So that was... unexpected. And I really do mean unexpected, I just thought you wanted, I don't know, a _challenge_. Someone _dangerous_ to fight, because I'm- Not- not _sex_ \- I mean I don't _mind_ , you're really- What I'm _trying_ to say is, I spent all this time wondering if I was _Evil_ enough for you, and then it turns out- Just _tell_ me what you _actually_ want next time. Can you do _that_ , Perry the Platypus?"

He means it. There's a tightness in his voice, genuine _hurt_ , and that aches more than anything else he's done to you. All you can do is nod.

"Thank you," he mumbles, and exhales. "So, when you kissed me, was that, uh, was it because we've just had _sex_ , or did you- how _long_ have you been _wanting_ to? It's always so hard to _tell_ with you, with your whole _closed off_ thing."

Long enough to hope there _is_ a next time.

Tucking your head into the crook of his neck, you chirr, hoping he can understand _this_. Because he's right, you do need to explain yourself better. You owe him that.

His fingers run through your fur, a gentle caress, and breathing finally comes easily to you. You've never felt more alive.

Alive, by his hand.

Dying on the job had always seemed like a possibility, before him. It still might. None of that matters, when he's here to show you what it means to truly _live_.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Begging To Bleed](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1v5oAzslsmI) by 8 Graves. It fit better than any of the lines the original plan from like 2018 (yeah this has been in the works for A While™), [Fear & Delight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ABS-mlep5rY) by The Correspondents, although overall that song does fit a little better as a whole.
> 
> Honestly, Kinktober was more an excuse to finish this than anything. Get it out of the wip pile. Even then, I'm a few hours later than I wanted to be with it, whoops.
> 
> **Warnings:**
> 
>   * Under-negotiated kink. They don't discuss what's going on beforehand, there's no established safeword, and this is _very unsafe_ considering the kink in question. Regardless, I'm going with a "they know each other well enough to understand unspoken desires" that would carry over into the equivalent of safewording. If Perry was genuinely distressed by anything, Heinz would notice and stop.
>   * Dubcon-ish language. Perry's rather desperately trying to convince himself he doesn't want it. There's no actual dubcon here, just internal conflict between how he sees himself and what he wants.
>   * Death-seeking behaviour/internal monologue. Not quite suicidal ideation itself but akin to it. ~~I blame Perry's training.~~
>   * OOC-ness. Heinz really isn't that level of malevolent; he's very much acting here. Taking on a role. Putting on a performance, because that's what Perry wants.
> 

> 
> Perryshmirtz server in series description as always.


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